Ice is My Life
by lost-in-arendelle
Summary: Teenage ice harvester Kristoff knows a secret. He's the only person besides the king and queen who is aware of Princess Elsa's ice powers and the injury she caused her sister, and it's getting harder and harder to hold his tongue when his friends spin tall tales about the mysterious princesses.


"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with them." Eirik didn't even look down as he drove his pickaxe into the ice. "I mean, why else would the king and queen hide their own daughters?"

Jens blew into his hands, as if he could feel anything through the fur and leather, and nodded enthusiastically. He always did listen to Eirik more than he should.

"I heard that the older one has a deformed face - like the whole left side looks like it's melting off, and they can't take her in public because anyone who looks in her eyes turns to stone. _Instantly_. Geir Halvorsen knows someone with a brother who used to work in the castle. He went into her room by accident, and-"

"By accident, huh?" Kristoff rolled his eyes. Crouched on the ice, neither Jens or Eirik could see him, and apparently they missed the sarcasm in his voice, too.

"Exactly," Jens continued without missing beat, "and he never came home. He's a statue in the castle gardens. The king paid his family to _never speak of it_."

Kristoff snorted.

"Rubbish."

"It is not!" Jens wiped his runny nose with the back of his sleeve. "Geir wouldn't lie to me."

"Right." Kristoff rose to his feet and brushed the snow off his knees. "Not like last time. And where_ is_ that gold he said you'd find if you stripped naked and sang under the Northern Lights?" He walked back to the sleigh and grabbed a pair of saws. He held one out to Jens. "Come on. We're behind schedule."

Eirik shook his head at them. He swung his pickaxe into the ice block once, twice, again, breaking it into three manageable chunks before resting the axe on his shoulder and tossing the sweaty hair back from his forehead.

"There _is_ something wrong with those girls." He paused to catch his breath. "There must be. And anyway, the younger one is fat and she has this huge nose-"

"She does _not_." Kristoff didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he noticed that he was the only one sawing. He looked up to find Jens and Eirik studying him with puzzled, interested expressions- the kind of expressions that could quickly escalate into teasing and questions he didn't want to answer.

Eirik stuck his pickaxe into the ice and folded his hands behind his head. The first bad sign. His mouth spread into a wide grin. The second. Then his eyebrow arched. The third.

Kristoff was officially in trouble.

"Really?" Eirik strolled closer.

"Yeah." Jens's eyes shifted back and forth between his friends. He sniffled loudly, but his nose kept running. "How would you know what she looks like?"

Kristoff turned his back to them and pretended to be very preoccupied with pulling his saw out of the ice.

"I've just… seen her once or twice." He fumbled with the handle. "From a distance, I mean."

He could feel their eyes on his back, and judging from the silence, they weren't satisfied with his answer. He groaned and yanked the saw free, rounding on them with the blade pointed out.

"Tell us more." Eirik folded his arms over his chest.

"There's nothing to tell." Kristoff raked his free hand through his hair. "She's a girl with a very normal sized nose." He took a step backwards, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. This was just getting better and better.

"Is she fat?" Jens asked hopefully. "Or ugly?"

"_No_," he said. "And those words don't even go together," he added, too loudly and too emphatically. He was never going to hear the end of this. "I haven't seen the princess in years, but when I did, she was…" _dying_, he almost said, but he cleared his throat and caught himself.

"Pretty. You know, for a princess. And small. Petite." He glanced back and forth between Eirik and Jens, searching for some sign that they were satisfied, but they just kept blinking at him expectantly. Kristoff's shoulders sagged. "Red hair? Blue eyes?"

Eirik stroked the non-existent beard on his chin.

"And the other one?"

"What other one?"

"The other princess."

"She's blonde, okay?" He scratched the back of his neck. "That's really all I know."

"But you saw her," Jens insisted. "And she didn't turn anyone to stone?"

"_Kind of impossible when they're made of stone already_," Kristoff muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said. He fidgeted with the saw, avoiding eye contact. He'd already said too much. "Just a… family joke, I guess."

He heard the crunch of boots on ice behind him a moment before Eirik and Jens's eyes widened. They quickly separated, one reaching for the pick axe, the other grabbing the saw. A heavy, gloved hand fell on Kristoff's shoulder before he could follow their lead. Wincing, he turned and looked up at Andreas. The leader of the ice harvesters glanced from Kristoff's guilty face to the trio's empty sled. He did not look impressed.

"What's this I hear about you boys not working?"

"We- we were working," Jens said. Andreas raised an eyebrow at the sled. Jens swallowed. "Mostly?"

Andreas sighed.

"You're eighteen," he said. "Or almost. That's old enough to pull your weight and abide by the same rules as the rest of the men."

"Yes, sir," the muttered in unison.

"If that sled isn't full by sunset, you'll stay until it is," he said. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Andreas stroked a beard significantly fuller than any of theirs and studied each of them in turn.

"All right, then." His eyes settled on Eirik. "Before I get back, why don't you tell me what was so distracting?"

"Nothing important," Kristoff said at the same time that Eirik said,

"Bjorgman was bragging about seeing the princesses."

Kristoff groaned. Eirik was going to get a fistful of ice down his back as soon as Andreas walked away.

"Is that true, Kristoff?" Andreas asked. He looked disappointed, which made Kristoff feel ill. Andreas had been the one to take him under his wing and teach him everything he needed to know about ice harvesting. Kristoff had spent his childhood idolizing him. He was the closest thing he had to a human father.

"I've seen them," he said, scratching the back of his neck again, "but I wasn't bragging. Honest! They said the princesses were ugly and I just-"

Andreas held up a gloved hand, silencing him as effectively as a palm against his mouth.

"Enough," he said wearily. "Kristoff, since you're such an expert on the princesses of Arendelle, you'll deliver the ice to the castle tomorrow."

"But-" Eirik's mouth gaped open, too stunned to hide his jealousy. Jens actually squeaked.

Delivering the ice to the castle was considered an honor, only bestowed upon the men that Andreas trusted most. In the ten years that Kristoff had tagged along with the ice harvesters, he'd never seen Andreas delegate the duty to someone so young.

"Thank- thank you, sir," he said, more than slightly stunned himself.

"Pick up the delivery at eleven," Andreas said warmly. "The cook expects it by noon." He squeezed Kristoff's shoulder as his eyes scanned Eirik and Jens in obvious amusement. "Remember to fill that sled, boys."

"But-" Andreas stepped away before Eirik could finish his thought. When he was half a dozen steps away, he turned back and grinned at the three dumbstruck boys.

"Incidentally," he said, "next time you blame someone else for your own gossip, perhaps you'll think twice." He grinned at them. "Eh, Eirik?"

"I can do this, Sven." Kristoff bit into a carrot and absently pushed the rest into his best friend's mouth. "Right? I can do this."

He stood in the center of the stone bridge that led to the castle gates with a sled full of ice behind him. In one hand, he held Sven's reins, in the other, the signed order permitting him to enter the castle grounds. The massive, closed doors loomed oppressively high over his head.

Sven nudged him forward with his nose. Kristoff took a deep breath and nodded.

"It's no different from any other delivery," he reminded himself sternly, but it was difficult to believe it. Bulda had washed his clothes and insisted he take an extra long bath last night. And this morning, he'd sat on a stump for nearly an hour while she fussed with his hair.

"Is this really necessary?" he'd asked, grumbling and fidgeting through every minute of it.

Bulda clucked her tongue in obvious disapproval.

"And what if you meet your true love?" She poked one stony finger against his chest. "You'll be glad you washed behind your ears then."

Kristoff frowned. Years of living with the trolls had taught him to never underestimate their ability to sense and understand things that ordinary mortals couldn't, especially in matters of the heart. He swallowed.

"Are you saying my true love is someone who works in the castle?" He waited for an answer, but Bulda only chuckled. Kristoff didn't think his question was especially funny. "But I thought they sent most of the staff away a long time ago. How many girls-"

"Shh." Bulda gently swept the hair from his forehead. "You can't go looking for true love or you'll fool yourself into believing you see it in all the wrong places. Let it find you instead."

Kristoff grimaced and looked away. He wasn't sure he was ready for true love yet. From what he'd observed of the trolls who paired off and the older ice harvesters who courted and married girls from the villages, love was a series of intense highs and lows and constant distraction. He hadn't even advanced to master ice harvester yet; he didn't have time to think about girls. And he'd never met one who lingered in his thoughts for long... except the princesses.

But that, he'd convinced himself, was for another reason entirely. He was the only person outside the royal family who knew Princess Elsa's secret and the injury she'd caused her sister. He'd begged Pabbie to let him keep his memories of the night the king and queen brought their daughters to the trolls to save Anna's life.

It was only natural that he should think about them, it was completely normal to picture Princess Anna and wonder if she was okay and if she'd ever remember why a streak of her hair turned white.

Bulda chuckled again.

"You're woolgathering, cutie."

Kristoff felt his cheeks flush.

"I'm not a cutie, I'm eighteen," he said, but he bent to kiss her head when he stood up. "And I'm going to be late."

Now that he stood outside the gates, he almost wished he had dawdled longer. To someone who spent so much time outside in the open air, the closed doors were immensely intimidating.

Sven nudged him again, harder this time.

"Okay," Kristoff said. He patted the back of Sven's neck. "You're right."

Without lingering for a third push, he stepped forward and rapped decisively on the doors. No one answered. He leaned his ear against the wood, but the space behind the doors was utterly silent. He shrugged at Sven and knocked again, using the heavy, iron rings this time.

Still no answer. He glanced back at his sled, at the large ice blocks slowly but steadily melting in the summer heat.

"Should we let ourselves in?" he asked Sven. "We can't wait around all day, the ice will melt."

Sven nodded and pulled the sled closer to the doors.

"Okay, buddy." He knocked one last time, then pushed the doors inward. They opened easily. "I hope we're not breaking any laws," he muttered as he and Sven walked through the gates and into an empty courtyard.

Kristoff frowned. He'd expected someone to meet him here, assumed a servant would be waiting at the gate to direct deliveries to the kitchen entrance. But the courtyard stood entirely deserted, and Kristoff had no idea where to find the kitchens in the massive labyrinth of the castle.

"Well, this is awkward." He shrugged towards Sven. "Wait here. I'll see if I can find help."

He walked through the courtyard, past the front doors, towards the side of the building. If the castle was like any other aristocratic house, the kitchens would be somewhere in the back, on the ground floor.

He followed a stone path around the side of the castle, through one small garden and into the next. He saw no gardners, no laundry maids, no servants of any kind. He shook his head.

"Who runs this place?"

A flash of movement from behind a window caught his eye. He took a step back and peered up at the tall, narrow windows, shading his eyes for a better look. Perhaps a maid was cleaning one of the upstairs rooms and he could wave his arms or throw a pebble at the glass to catch her attention.

But when a figure twirled in front of the windows, it wasn't a maid he saw. No, just like that night so long ago in the forest, Kristoff found himself staring helplessly at Princess Anna.

She was dancing… twirling and curtsying and gliding across the room without a partner. He watched her trip and laugh at herself, one elegant hand pressed to lips he suddenly longed to touch, and something tightened painfully in his chest. His heart pounded. He didn't want to smile, but he couldn't help it. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and imagined. Growing up had left him feeling clumsy, shy, and far too big. But she… she was perfect. Her red hair glowed gold everywhere the sunlight touched it, and her face was dusted with freckles beneath the most incredible pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen. He felt dizzy just looking at them. If she actually looked him the eye, he thought he might faint for the first time in his life.

But she twirled away from the window and the spell was broken. Kristoff shook his head and blinked, trying and failing to understand what had just happened. He pressed his hand to heart, it was still beating like he'd just won a footrace. If Eirik and Jens could see him like this, they would tease him straight out of Arendelle.

"A princess and an ice harvester," he said, smirking though he felt shaken. "Is there anything less likely?"

The answer was no, of course, but he didn't understand why it hurt so much.

He hurried away. The sooner he finished this errand, the better. Surely, once he was safely outside the gates again, this ache below his ribs would go away.

He rounded the corner of the castle and found himself stomping through a large garden, well maintained but just as empty as the courtyard. Every door on the back of the building was closed. He walked past each one, but he heard no clanging pots, he smelled nothing cooking.

And when he knocked on the doors, no one answered.

"Where is everyone?"

His hands fisted at his sides. He banged on the last door, no longer surprised when it didn't open.

"Great." He raked his hands through his hair, ruining Bulda's attempt to tame it. "The ice will melt and Andreas will never trust me with an important task again."

He sighed and leaned his forehead against the door, ready to admit defeat and return to Sven. He pulled back and returned to the garden path, but before he'd taken a second step, he paused.

Someone was in the garden, and she was _weeping_.

He stood still and listened, wondering if he'd imagined the sound that stopped him in his tracks. But the soft, broken sobs continued, so breathless and painful that he automatically started towards them. He left the path and wandered deeper into the garden, past tall hedges and fountains ringed with flowers. He tread carefully, afraid he'd crush something fragile and beautiful beneath his enormous boots.

The weeping grew louder until he stepped into a small clearing shielded by hedgerows taller than his head. In the center, lying on an iron bench painted white, a young woman with pale blonde hair sobbed into her folded arms.

Kristoff froze. He knew exactly who she was, as sure as he knew that if he had any sense at all, he'd turn and leave before she discovered him. Apprentice ice harvesters did _not_ talk to future queens. But her shoulders trembled and she looked so fragile and thin, nothing like a princess who'd one day rule a country.

He took one step back, resolved to leave, but his boot crunched against a twig. He cringed. Instantly, her head jerked up.

Their eyes locked. Hers were wide and bloodshot, and she wiped them with the back of one pale hand.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice frosty and commanding despite the sobs that escaped between the words like hiccups.

"I'm-" He stopped, trying to remember if he was supposed to bow.

"I dismissed the staff for the day." She sat up, half of her braided coiffure flopping against the side of her blotchy face. "Why did you come into the garden?"

Kristoff cleared his throat.

"I was sent to deliver the ice," he said. "I couldn't find anyone to direct me to the kitchens, so I tried to find them myself. I heard you crying and-" he trailed off, watching her eyes fill with tears. "Forgive me, Princess Elsa. I should not have disturbed you."

She sniffed and hugged her arms against her waist, as if she was cold or protecting herself from him. He should have walked away, but something held him rooted in place. He felt an absurd desire to help her because if Princess Anna saw her sister like this, he was sure that all the joy that had transfixed him would vanish from her face. He had no right to do so, but he wanted to protect her, to play some small part in her happiness, even if she never knew that he was here.

He reached into his pocket and found a handkerchief, suddenly glad Bulda had insisted he carry one. He held it out like a peace offering or a white flag of surrender, waiting for Elsa's slender arm to meet him halfway.

To his surprise, she leaned forward and took it. She lowered her eyes and blew her nose with a delicate sort of dignity that looked positively royal. He almost laughed out loud.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "What is your name?"

"Kristoff." He risked stepping closer and crouched down on the grass so they could speak at the same eye level. "Is- is there anything I can do to help? Someone I can fetch, or-"

"No!" Her arm flew out and caught his sleeve. She let go immediately, shuddering as she fought another sob. "No, thank you. I… I haven't decided how to share this," she said, "and I'm not ready to- that is, Anna-" This time, she gave in, her whole body shaking as she doubled over and wept. "I'm not- I can't tell her-"

Kristoff frowned. He didn't understand her, didn't know how to help. He'd never comforted a weeping woman before, he didn't know the right things to say, the right things to do. Instead, he ended up scowling and scratching the back of his neck.

"Princess Anna?" He followed the only thing he did understand. "I saw her a few minutes ago."

Elsa's head jerked up in alarm.

"Through a window," he amended. "She was dancing. She looked... happy."

"I don't make her happy," Elsa said hoarsely. She wiped her eyes and nose with the handkerchief. "I can't face her, it's my fault that she's locked in the castle without any friends, and now- and now-" she took a deep breath and swallowed another sob, "Now I must find some way to tell her that the two people she loved most in the world are dead."

For an instant, the ground seemed to tilt beneath his knees.

"_What?_"

Elsa nodded miserably.

"A courier brought the news an hour ago. My p-p-parents' ship was lost at sea. Anna doesn't know yet. I- I dismissed the servants so word wouldn't reach her before I- before I figured out some way to-" She shook her head and wrung the handkerchief between her gloved hands. "I- I didn't even hug them _goodbye_. I was so afraid of hurting them, I-" she turned and met his eyes, "What if they died not knowing how much I loved them?"

"They knew." Without conscious thought, he moved to sit beside her. "The entire _kingdom_ knew how much the king and queen loved their daughters."

Elsa sniffed. She tugged at the fingertips of her gloves, twisting them as if she longed to punish herself.

"I was a burden," she said quietly. "A _curse_. Their lives were charmed. Then I came along and ruined everything."

Kristoff shook his head.

"That's not true."

"Oh?" She frowned, clearly dismissive. "What would you know about it?"

He hesitated. If he admitted the truth, would she throw him in a dungeon or cut out his tongue? She didn't seem the type, but hers was a secret worth keeping at any cost.

"Because I saw it," he said, hoping he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life. "The night the king and queen brought you and Princess Anna to the trolls... It was obvious. They would have done anything for you, anything to protect you, because they loved you that much."

She stared at him. _Through_ him. As if she was seeing him for the first time. He didn't think that was a good sign. But at least he'd shocked her tears away.

"You- you were there?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"I live with the trolls," he said, shrugging self-consciously under her intense scrutiny. "They took me in a few months after my parents died."

Elsa took a long, slow breath. Her hands opened in her lap. She gazed down at her gloved palms.

"Then… Then, you _know_." She sounded much calmer now.

"Yes," he said. "And I've never told a soul. I never _will_ tell a soul."

A tiny, sad smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Sometimes, I wish I could tell everyone," she said softly. She pulled off her glove and Kristoff watched in fascination as snowflakes danced in her palm, whirling and multiplying out of thin air until she held a snowball in her hand. "I get so tired of hiding who I really am."

She tossed the snowball into the hedges, then touched the iron bench with her index finger. Beautiful, crystalline ice spread from her fingertip until the entire bench was covered in frost and the ground beneath their feet lay blanketed in solid ice. She glanced up at Kristoff, suddenly wary, as if she'd forgotten that she had company.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind?" He shook his head, marvelling at the purity of the ice, the blades of grass captured inside it, bright green and vibrant. The ice was as clear as glass, he'd never seen anything like it. "_Mind?_ Ice is my life!"

Elsa's smile broadened just the slightest bit.

"I suppose it would be, wouldn't it?" She tilted her head to the side, absently tossing snow into the air above their heads. "You know, when you get excited about something, you remind me of my sister. She makes the same face."

Kristoff stilled. She'd cooled the air with her snow, but he felt too hot. He fumbled with his sleeves.

"Did Pabbie's magic work?" he asked, desperate to change the subject. He had the uncomfortable impression that Elsa could see every one of his secrets with a single look. "She still doesn't remember what happened?"

"Oh, it worked. Perfectly. She has no knowledge of my powers." Elsa turned away and peered down at her knees. "I miss her every day, you know. I miss having a best friend. I miss _being myself_." Her voice wavered as she laid her head in her hands. "I thought Papa would be king for another forty years. I thought I wouldn't take the throne until I was much, much older. I thought that- that maybe by then, I would have better control of my powers, that I wouldn't be afraid of hurting people anymore."

"But you're not of age yet."

"Three years," she said dully. "Three years until I'll have no choice but to appear in public. I've been training all my life for this role, I can't abandon it now." She swallowed. "But sometimes- sometimes I wish Anna could take my place. She knows how to talk to people, she would be a good queen." Snow started falling heavily in the clearing, surrounding the bench in blizzard white. "If some accident were to befall me- if I took ill-"

"_Stop_." Kristoff wasn't sure if he referred to the blizzard or her awful words. Both, he supposed. He reached out and touched her shoulder, so bony and cold beneath his fingers. If he squeezed, she might break. Elsa took a great, shuddering breath and turned her head to look at him. The wind stopped, but the silent snow continued to fall.

"You can't do that to Anna," he said. When had he started to think of her as Anna? This had to stop, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to protect her. "You're the only family she has left now. That happy look- that light in her eyes- if she lost you, too, it would burn out forever." He hated how rough his voice sounded, he wasn't supposed to care this much about a stranger, a girl so far out of his reach that it was almost laughable. "You'd hurt her, so much worse than your ice ever did."

The snow stopped. Elsa's eyes brimmed with tears, but they didn't fall. With a brisk nod, she brushed them away.

"Tell her what happened," Kristoff said. "And then hug her. Do you know how lucky you are to have each other right now?" He swallowed. "My mother caught a fever a few months after my father fell through the ice. He was an ice harvester, like me. He stepped on thin ice and the current sucked him down before they could pull him out."

He'd never shared this with anyone, he wasn't sure he wanted to now, but the words kept tumbling out, unstoppable.

"My mom held me and we cried all night. But when she died- when there was no one left- no one that belonged to me, I would have given anything for a hug."

He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his jaw. He felt too vulnerable, sitting beside this princess who sniffled and trembled and didn't say a word.

"Don't do that to Anna," he said firmly, angrily. "Don't put her through that kind of pain."

"I'm not sure I can," she whispered. "If I hurt her-"

"You'll hurt her far more if you don't face this together."

"You talk as if you know her."

Kristoff stood up and shook the snow from his hair.

"Well, I don't," he muttered. "How could I?"

Elsa smiled slightly.

"And yet, you do." She looked away. "You've never met her and you understand her better than I do." Her smile turned bitter. "What a sister I am."

Kristoff shook his head.

"It doesn't have to be that way. It's not a curse, you know."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, I assure you, it is."

"I think it's a gift," he said, shrugging. Snow fell from his shoulders. "One that could put us ice harvesters out of business."

Elsa actually giggled then, a wholly unexpected, pretty sound that he felt absurdly proud to have caused.

"It is ironic," she admitted. "You delivering ice when I could create my own." She shrugged, laughing at herself. "I could fill every ice box in Arendelle."

"Wait until I find a different job." He winced. "Which might be soon. They're not going to be happy with me after this."

"Your ice must have melted by now," she said, understanding. As she rose to her feet and shook the snow from her skirts, it stopped falling from the sky. "I told you that I dismissed the servants. It's my fault that you didn't make your delivery on time." She raised her chin, suddenly looking every inch the regal queen. "I will go back inside by way of the kitchens and fill the ice boxes. No one will be the wiser and you can tell your men that you made the delivery after all."

Kristoff blinked at her.

"You'd do that for me?"

She nodded.

"Of course." Her voice was grave, it seemed to fade with each word. "You've helped me on the most terrible day of my life."

As Kristoff watched, she folded her gloves in one hand and held out the other. He reached for it and shook it, firmly but gently, trying to share warmth and courage without words. When they both let go, she stared at her palm, and he realized that she'd probably never touched someone's hand without her gloves and secret between them. The knowledge that she'd chosen him shook him as much as it seemed to surprise her.

"Perhaps we will meet again someday," she said. This time, her smile was genuine and warm. As she walked from the clearing, she paused and turned back. "Thank you for keeping my secret."

He bowed slightly. He was definitely doing it wrong, but she didn't frown or laugh at him. She bobbed her head and disappeared, leaving him standing alone in a snowy clearing wondering if she'd actually take his advice and hug her sister.

Why did it feel like his entire world had shifted and realigned itself in a different order? And Anna's world was about to shift, too. With an intensity he didn't ask for or appreciate, he found himself longing to hold her. He wanted to scale the wall and pull her into his arms and comfort her and never let her go.

Dangerous, hopeless thoughts for a poor ice harvester.

He pressed his hand against his racing heart.

"I need to get out of here," he said. "Now."

But as he left the garden, he paused and looked up at Anna's empty window.

"Perhaps we will meet again someday," he whispered, repeating Princess Elsa's words. He laughed and shook his head. "Forget about it, Kristoff. She's not your true love."

But in the secret parts of his heart, he hoped he was wrong.

~*~ THE END ~*~


End file.
